


gravity

by wearing_tearing



Series: Sterek Prompt Fills [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Fluff, M/M, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think our connection is a kind of miracle?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	gravity

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from [tumblr](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/post/124774719634/have-you-ever-thought-of-a-sense8sterek-au-where).

The first time Stiles sees him, it’s through a window.

Stiles is sitting at his usual table at his favorite coffee shop, his laptop open and books and highlighters spread in front of him. The end of the semester is near and with it come deadlines and about three different papers Stiles needs to finish writing in the next five days.

Stiles knows he’ll manage to get everything done, but he’s not sure if he’ll survive. He’s already on his sixth cup of coffee of the day and it’s not even noon yet.

“Dude, you need to chill.”

Stiles makes a face, throwing the cap of one of his highlighters at Scott’s head. “I’ll chill when I don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Scott gives him an unimpressed look and doesn’t even flinch when the cap hits him straight in the chest. “Stiles.”

“ _Scott_.” Stiles scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Your shirt’s inside out and your socks don’t match,” Scott tells him. “You have toothpaste on the corner of your mouth and you’ve been highlighting the same paragraph for the past ten minutes. Plus, your exhaustion is making _me_ tired.”

Stiles blinks slowly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Okay, so you might be a little right.”

“There’s no maybe about it, dude,” Scott says, shaking his head at him. “You’re so tired you’re not even worried about people thinking you’re talking to yourself. I’m giving you twenty minutes and then I’m taking charge of you and dragging you out of here and putting you to bed. Where you’re going to sleep. For at _least_ the next four hours.”

“Scott, you don’t have to—”

Stiles never gets to finish the sentence. Because right outside the shop, walking in the middle of the street, is the man of his dreams.

Okay, so maybe Stiles never really dreamed about him. But he thinks that if the world came together to create someone who hits all of Stiles’s buttons, well, that man would be _it_.

He’s tall, maybe as tall as Stiles, with broad shoulders and muscles arms and chest. His hair is black and shiny and looks soft to the touch, and his jaw is covered in stubble. Stiles can’t really tell the color of his eyes from where he’s sitting, but he knows they’re clear and bright.

Mostly because the guy is staring _right back at Stiles_.

“Oh shit.”

Scott’s voice makes Stiles glance back at him, away from the window and the . “What?”

“I think—,” Scott says, concerned. “I think he’s one of us.”

“Do you mean—,” Stiles’s eyes widen, and he turns back to look at the street. “You think that he’s—”

“Yeah,” Scott says quietly, following Stiles’s gaze. “I think so.”

But the man is already gone. He’s already disappeared.

*

Scott was the first, but then it kept happening.

Stiles seeing people who weren’t really there.

He thought he was just sleep deprived, at first. Then he thought he was sick, just like his mom.

But then, well.

Then he _learned_.

*

He shares his mind with seven other people.

The cluster.

They are all connected. Each person’s mind doesn’t belong to just one, but it belongs to all of _them_.

There’s Allison from France, Kira from Japan, Lydia from the United States, and Erica from Brazil. There’s himself from Poland, Scott from Mexico, Danny from Hawaii, and then there’s Derek from the United States.

Derek Hale.

The man of Stiles’s dreams.

*

The second time Stiles sees him, it’s in his own kitchen.

Stiles is giving voice to the song that’s been stuck in his head for the entire day while he does the dishes, his voice echoing around the room. It takes him a while to realize that someone joined him, but when he does, he turns around to find Derek.

He’s leaning against Stiles’s fridge, arms by his sides, and a soft smile on his face as he sings along _so I wake up in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath, and I get real high_. And Stiles can’t help but give him a smile of his own, _and I scream from the top of my lungs, what’s going on?_

They dance around and sing, never touching each other. But Stiles wants to. _Oh,_ he wants to.

*

Stiles and Derek talk, sometimes.

Stiles will show up in Derek’s New York City apartment when he’s feeling like the walls are closing in on him, or Derek will appear in the middle of Stiles’s living room with his eyes shuttered and mouth pressed in a tight line.

They learn things about each other, when it’s just the two of them.

They might share a mind and might feel each other’s emotions, but their memories are their own to keep, unless they decide to share them.

And they do. Stiles shares about his mother, her sickness, his guilt. In turn, Derek tells him about his family, the fire that killed them, his guilt. They slowly get to know each other as they learn how their connection works, not just to each other but the rest of the people connected to them.

It’s an understatement to say Stiles likes what he finds out about Derek.

*

The third time Stiles sees him, it’s in the bathroom.

One minute Stiles is walking home and the next he is standing in the middle of Derek’s bathroom.

Where Derek is taking a shower.

With his body wet and glistening and right _there_ , for Stiles to see.

And oh, does Stiles see.

He sees _so much_ that he squeaks, takes a step back, trips on his own feet, and falls down in the middle of the street, the image of Derek’s naked _everything_ and his horrified face when he saw Stiles was there seared into his mind.

*

They don’t talk about it.

But they both do flush the next time they see each other, their cheeks turning red.

*

They don’t talk about it.

But Stiles does think about Derek and Derek _naked_ the next time he masturbates. And the time after that and the one after that and the one after _that_.

Until Derek shows up and catches _him_ with his clothes off.

*

That’s when they talk about it.

Or, well, that’s when they _try_ to talk about it.

All Stiles manages to say is, “I was trying not to think about you, but that didn’t work out so well.”

And all Derek replies is, “Oh, thank fuck.”

And then they’re kissing, hot and wet and perfect.

And then Derek’s hand is on his dick, warm and soft and _more_ than perfect.

*

“Do you think our connection is a kind of miracle?”

Derek is solid and _real_ on Stiles’s bed, his head sharing Stiles’s pillow, their faces so close their noses touch. They’re both naked and sweaty and gross, but they’re both happy.

“I don’t know,” Derek answers, breath ghosting over Stiles’s lips.

“It seems like it,” Stiles murmurs. “In days like this one.”

“When we’re both here and somewhere else,” Derek adds, fingers trailing slowly up and down Stiles’s spine. “But together.”

“Like quantum physics,” Stiles says, rubbing their noses together. “Or gravity. A force that no one knows exists. Only if it didn’t exist, if there wasn’t this mysterious attraction, this pull between objects, then none of this would exist either.”

“I like gravity,” Derek says, and pulls Stiles into a kiss.

*

The first time they meet, it’s at an airport.

Stiles has his bang thrown over his shoulder, his fingers holding tight to the straps. His heart seems like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and he’s sure that at any minute now he’s going to pass out.

“You’re not going to pass out.”

Stiles makes a face, wishing he had something to throw at Scott right now. “You’re not helping,” Stiles hisses under his breath.

“You’re going to be fine,” Scott says, resting his hand on Stiles’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I promise.”

“How can _you_ know?” Stiles asks, covering his mouth with his hand so the people walking around him won’t think he’s talking to himself. “What if he sees me for real and doesn’t like me? What if he thinks I smell weird? What if he thinks I have a weird accent?”

“Stiles,” Lydia says, showing up by his side. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and he looks completely unimpressed. “We’ve all had sex. Derek knows what you look and smell and _taste_ like. And you don’t need to worry about your accent. We can all understand you just fine.”

Stiles feels himself flush at Lydia’s mention of the time they all connected at the same time while he and Derek were getting it on. He can’t help but admit that she’s right, though, even if it doesn’t make him feel that much better.

“Everything will be okay,” Scott tells him.

“He’s waiting for you,” Lydia reminds him. “Right by those doors. And you two better come visit me.”

Stiles takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. “We will, promise.”

“Now go get him, bro.” Scott grins, raising his hand up for a high five.

Stiles looks around him first to make sure no one’s watching him before slapping their hands together.

And then he goes get Derek.

*

The first time they meet, it’s at an airport.

Stiles doesn’t even spend five seconds looking for Derek before he finds him, and then he doesn’t waste a minute more until he’s safely in between Derek’s arms. He runs and he crashes into Derek head on, throwing his arms around Derek’s shoulders. Derek hugs him back just as tight, his face buried against the side of Stiles’s neck.

They don’t speak, just hold each other for as long as they can, while Scott, Lydia, Allison, Kira, Erica, and Danny stand behind them and smile, big and wide and bright.


End file.
